


Dislike if you Enjoyed

by Rushar



Category: The Derp Crew (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Denial, Depression, Fluff, Gay, I'm Sorry, Love Confessions, M/M, Panic Attacks, Suicide, illegal drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11156031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rushar/pseuds/Rushar
Summary: One, two, three...Breathe.Get through the day.Survive, just survive.





	1. Lullabye (Goodnight My Angel)

**Author's Note:**

> https://open.spotify.com/user/enderdeath731/playlist/1824buKJY4paQBDyT1AYGk  
> Playlist for the story

_One, two, three._

Breathe.                                               

_One, two, three._

Breathe.

Tap _once, twice, thrice_ on the desk and breathe.

It was a bad episode and it had just so happened to strike in the middle of a recording session. The facecam footage was going to be unusable because he was practically in tears at this point. His friends were still laughing in the background as he counted under his breath and thankfully, Ze hadn't glanced over at the Skype camera since the attack started. He was in bad shape, his whole body shaking and a hand over his eyes to reduce the sensitivity of colliding noises and visuals with his already chaotic thoughts. He counted again, three more sets of three before he felt like he would be able to get back in control and not curl up in the corner.

"Chilled! Help me! There's a crazy man in the basement with a knife!" Ze's shrieks welcomed him back into the game of Murder; checking his inventory, he saw that he had the gun. "Chilled, I'm gonna die, please!"

"Welcome to my life," Anthony muttered under his breath, too quietly for anyone to hear. "I don't know where the basement is!" he said, louder, with a paper smile glued to his face. It slipped onto his features as though it wasn't like the world had been draining into the darkness around him just moments prior.

"Aw, well that's just too bad, isn't it now buddy?" Ritz jeered, his sentence ending with the punctuation of Ze's dying scream. "Now, where are you, Chilled?"

"Um, I'm nowhere," Anthony took it upon his best interests to move, going from the bedroom that he had spawned in, to the hallway that led to a staircase. He drew the gun and loaded the bullets, on autopilot now as he wandered through the house to try to search for Ritz without getting himself stabbed in the process. "Is Max still there?"

"No. I was the first to die, you fuck!" Max shouted grittily. "Because you weren't here when I was getting attacked in the room right fucking next to you!"

A pang of guilt shot through Anthony but he continued on. He could break down again after the session was done but for now, he had his subscribers to please. He had to finish the game as best he could, even without being able to function probably. He saw movement in the corner of the screen and he shot blindly, just barely managing to hit Ritz as the murderer charged him. There was a loud shriek of "you _bitch!_ " before Ze and Max cheered at his victory. There was a sick feeling in his gut, ever present now but still weighing down heavier than usual. He was desperate to finish up the session but there was still half of the game left to go.

Faking it was more exhausting than the disease itself, having to smile and project his emotions clearly through his voice. Anthony was dying on the inside, just to show a smile.

"Hey Chilled, you there? You keep going quiet." Anthony refocused on the screen and checked the red text at the bottom to confirm that he was indeed the murderer this round. It was Ze that had spoken and with a quick glance over to the facecam, he saw his best friend watching him with worry written all over his face.

"I'm here. Just couldn't sleep last night because somebody -" Anthony cleared his throat, trying to make it seem like he wasn't bullshitting his way through an excuse, "- meaning Rex, was climbing all over me."

Another glance over to the Skype call with Ze showed that his bluffing wasn't cutting it. There was an intense stare directed his way and Ze raised his eyebrows as though to signal that he was able to see right through the lie.

"Yeah, Malcolm likes to do that too. Big dogs, they think they're puppies." Much to Anthony's relief, Max carried on the conversation with a small chuckle, perhaps not even knowing the result that his normalcy had on Anthony. It was a game of pretending and plaster, sculpting smiles and ignoring what was always looming just over his shoulder so he could go back in time. People around him staying the same as always helped to turn a blind eye to his illness.

He was able to suffer through the last of the rounds, not managing to stay alive for any of them. Max introduced them to a game that had been discovered on the map when he had played it a while back that involved a pool table, a gun, and G-man. It was interesting, and the happy-go-lucky Anthony from last year probably would have loved it. But as it was, he was doing good just to react when a pool ball killed his in-game character. It seemed to last an eternity, his friends' voices getting louder until Anthony couldn't even tell if he was breathing. He was panicked, drowning in a landlocked country where everyone was happy. Everyone was happy except him and this was just a sick, twisted game they were playing to see who was the happiest with their lives. And in that game, Anthony was being left in the dirt and kicked by people who couldn't hear his cries to stop over their own joyous laughter.

"Chilled!" Ze's shout was the only thing that brought him back. It was just still airwaves between them, the recording session over. Everyone else had already left the call and Anthony hadn't even noticed. More guilt for not paying better attention to his friends. "Unmute our call please, I need to talk to you."

Anthony obeyed in silence, ending what had been the group call and unmuting the second window of Skype on his laptop where the facecams were turned on. It wasn't something they did often, running two separate calls while recording with friends, but Ze had asked if they could today, and as always, Anthony never turned him down. He also just barely remembered to stop his recording, cringing at the thought of the editing he would have to do later. Ugh. More work.

"I'm here," he spoke quietly, the weight of his illness tightening his chest and making it difficult to breathe. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"You. You're acting... tired. All the time." Anthony had to resist the urge to sigh. Ze wouldn't let him have any time to think, instead just cutting straight to the chase. "And not the 'I didn't get enough sleep' tired either, the 'I'm tired of doing this' kind. What's going on?"

Anthony breathed. One, two, three. "Um, I'm trying to take care of it. I'm sure it'll go away soon," he laughed awkwardly, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Ze stared at him through the facecam, a deep frown still twisting his face. Anthony breathed out. "Fine, I'm not doing good and I don't know why."

Ze's expression softened into one of concern. In a quiet voice, he asked, "do you need me to come stay with you for a while? To make sure you won't... well, won't try anything."

Anthony paused, terrified that Ze could find out just how badly he wanted to die.  These thoughts weren’t new and had been festering, suppressed in his mind for over a year now, but he didn't want Ze to catch on to what he was thinking and waste his energy being concerned about someone like Anthony. It was a difficult task considering how close they were and especially with how leached of conviction the cancer had made him.

His hesitation alone was enough for Ze though and his best friend sent him a sad smile. "I'll come over in two weeks time. Do you think you'll be okay until then?" Anthony could only nod, refusing to meet Ze's light green gaze. Pixels formed and rearranged between them and sound waves travelled through cables that stretched for miles. Anthony had never felt more distant or broken when it came to Ze.

They were best friends. They became so through electronics, talked nearly every day, and were inseparable no matter what. Meeting in real life was always like fulfilling a dream that they both relived over and over between each visit. Behind the camera, they were greeting each other with hugs that could have lasted a few seconds too long, cuddles that they agreed long ago were just platonic, and an easy state of mind where they could both relax. Before, they would Skype regularly even without recording, chatting quietly and with small smiles etched onto their faces. It was their routine, a routine that lately, Anthony had been tearing himself away from.

"Ze?" It was barely audible, but he heard. He knew when Anthony needed quiet and when he needed noise. "I'm scared."

"Anthony," his name was just as soft from Ze's lips. It wasn't the name used for videos. This was meant for him personally. "You're gonna make it. Don't give up hope. Just keep thinking about what's gonna happen, what you're gonna do to have fun and make something in the world. Just a couple weeks, Anth. I believe in you."

Hearing the nickname made Anthony smile. It wasn't wide or cheerful like his fans were used to seeing; it barely showed the outlines of his dimples. But it was genuinely his, not some plastic smile to get through the day. It was acknowledgement and agreement to Ze. Maybe he wouldn't actually make it two weeks, but he wasn't going to try to speed up his own demise with plans or letting himself lose control. Ze shared his own small grin at the sight and the two began talking about everything and nothing, shadows and dreams that they had to fill the air. Neither wanted to stop speaking and leave the other in silence so when there was a lull in the conversation, Anthony asked Ze how he was doing.

"Huh? Oh, the usual. Busy with work, school, and not getting enough sleep. It's hard to relax," Ze shrugged good-naturedly, easily communicating the 'what can you do?' without even having to voice a single word. It was normal for him to have a lot going on, even now Anthony could see him glancing over at a different screen as he worked on editing. It was getting late now though, and Anthony was considering taking the opportunity to relax and call on a much older tradition of theirs, one that was extremely infrequent but always seemed to help.

"Do you want me to sing to you?" Ze paused and glanced over at Anthony in surprise. It had been well over a year since the last time that offer had been made but nevertheless, Ze smiled widely and nodded, clicking a few things before positioning the monitor used for Skype so that it was facing his bed in the corner of the room. It would have seemed a little strange but it gave Ze more room to get changed in private. And maybe Anthony had once admitted that Ze was adorable when he was sleepy, and perhaps that had been said after a few glasses of schnapps, but Ze had always remembered.

While Ze was turning off the lights and changing to pyjamas, Anthony was pulling up lyrics for a few songs and setting them to queue in Spotify, the volume low so he could still be aware of his own voice while still making sure he was hitting the melody right. He rarely sang, didn't have enough confidence in himself to actually get through a song in front of most people anymore. But again, Ze wasn't most people.

Ze came back into frame, wearing space themed pyjama pants with a plain grey shirt, and burrowed into the covers of his bed. He put the headphones back on and let his head rest on the pillow, staring sleepily at the Skype screen, his face illuminated by the bright glow.

Anthony hit the play button for the song and started humming along, still shy and soft as he tried to overcome the faint anxiety he still felt from 'performing'. "Some folks like to get away," he started off quietly still, but slowly, he began to get back into the rhythm and his voice grew. "Take a holiday from the neighbourhood, hop a flight to Miami Beach... or to Hollywood."

Ze smiled at the song of choice, shifting slightly so he could move his hand up to his face. Anthony sang on, leading into the next line with more confidence, "but I'm taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River Line... yeah, I'm in a New York state of mind..."

The song was lengthy but Anthony practically knew it by heart. When he was younger, he had never held much value to the song, but when he moved out of New York, he listened to it over and over again to quell his homesickness for the first few months. It was sad sounding, but still so sweet, like returning to something that you had always loved.

It faded out and changed after several minutes, during which Ze was nearly asleep. Piano Man played next, but Anthony wasn't even halfway through it before he could hear faint snores from his friend. Anthony smiled and kept going anyway, pausing Spotify after the song ended. A thought struck him and he took a deep breath, pausing before starting to sing once more, no longer needing music.

"Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes," it was softer than before, something gentle and perhaps even a bit more. "And save these questions for another day," It was a lullaby- a confession, and Anthony smiled again as he felt tears well up in his eyes. "I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say," he continued the melody, wishing with all his heart that he could be brave enough to sing this while Ze was awake and there to hear him.

Though until then, Ze never had to know what went on behind Anthony's eyes.


	2. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story playlist - https://open.spotify.com/user/enderdeath731/playlist/1824buKJY4paQBDyT1AYGk

_One, two, three_.

Breathe. Choke back tears. He was too strong to cry.

_One, two, three._

Breathe, but a strangled sob slipped past his lips halfway through. He gave up.

He was huddled up in a corner, having an attack, unable to focus on trying to stay calm. His phone got a text and buzzed loudly, but he couldn't do much of anything except for burying his head in his hands. He couldn't function and didn't want to force himself to do so for fear of something else going wrong as soon as he made his existence known.

Anthony had fucked up his video files, erasing every single one that he hadn't posted yet, including the ones that he had already edited. It was days of work, a week's worth of videos for both channels, just... gone. There was no way to salvage it; he had tried for two hours and only succeeded in increasing the hatred of himself and his ineptness. He didn't want to bother Ze because there was nothing either of them could do about it at this point. Not to mention he wasn't good enough for Ze's attention...

There was another text and somehow Anthony managed to get himself together enough to pick up his phone, which now had a slightly cracked screen from where he threw it to the floor in a fit of frustration. He swiped the lock screen and saw Ritz had been texting him for the last twenty minutes. Anthony shakily wiped his tears away and opened the messages, reading through them quickly.

**Ritz Crackers: Hey chilled why didnt you get on to record? [6:49 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: Dude ze texted me this morning telling me to make sure you were okay today whats going on [6:51 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: Umm seriously are you okay? [6:56 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: Sorry if im being all clingy and shit but im kind of worried now [6:57 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: If you dont answer me in ten minutes im calling ze [7:01 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: I stf if you did something [7:03 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: ...well i dont know what ill do [7:03 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: I will come over to your house and break down the door and hug you until you cant breathe [7:04 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: And give you a stern talking to [7:05 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: Chilled this isnt funny [7:07 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: Alright im calling ze [7:09 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: Ze has been called [7:11 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: Dude wtf did you do he sounded really scared [7:12 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: Chilled fucking answer me [7:13 P.M.]**

Anthony frowned and saw he had two missed calls from Ze. He hadn't heard the phone ring but it was all he could to shoot a quick text to his best friend saying not to worry. Almost instantly, Ze was texting him back but he ignored it in favour of responding to Ritz.

**ChillyWilly: hey sorry about that. really sorry. [7:15 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: YOU PIECE OF SHIT I WAS ALMOST READY TO CALL THE POLOCE TO YOUR HOUSE TO CHECK ON YOU [7:15 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: WHAT IS A POLOCE IDK BUT ARE UOU OKAY [7:16 P.M.]**

**ChillyWilly: nah im okay [7:16 P.M.]**

**ChillyWilly: i guess [7:16 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: What does that mean are you hurt do i need to call an ambulance [7:17 P.M.]**

**ChillyWilly: no i just fucked up really bad [7:18 P.M.]**

**Ritz Crackers: Okay im gonna call you dont you dare ignore me [7:19 P.M.]**

Soon after, the notification popped up that Anthony was receiving a call and he answered it with numb fingers, putting the phone on speaker so he could set it on the ground and still hear Ritz.

"Chilled! Thank fuck, where the hell were you? Are you okay? Why did Ze sound like he was about to freak out?" Anthony listened to Ritz shouting frantically, going into 'overprotective mom mode'. He was quiet until his friend had finished with the wave of questions, which lasted several minutes. Anthony could just imagine Ritz frantically pacing his home, pulling at his hair as he yelled into the phone.

"I'm okay. I just... I just messed up." Anthony wasn't even sure if Ritz could hear him, but apparently, he could.

"Messed up how? And why do you sound so upset? Chilled, talk to me right fucking now."

"I, uh, deleted several days worth of video files. And I can't get them back. I know I should just smile and make some more but... but I just don't _want_ to," Anthony was terrified. "Ritz... I'm so scared. I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"You are going to go curl up on a couch with some ice cream and talk to Ze. He sounded worried sick and I'm willing to bet he still is." Ritz paused for a few seconds and Anthony could hear him breathing faintly. Then softer, "he cares about you so much. You know it wouldn't matter if you were happy or depressed, he'd still want to be there for you." Anthony was trying his hardest not to cry again, looking away from the phone as he held his hand over his mouth. "That being said, I'm here for you too. If you just need to talk. About anything, it doesn't have to be about whatever's going on right now -"

"I'm scared that I might kill myself." For a long moment, there was a stricken silence at Anthony's confession. He hadn't even admitted it to himself until now. It didn't make things easier, acknowledging the problem. It just made it all the more real. "I'll talk to you later Ritz."

He reached over to hang up and leant back against the wall, trying to hold himself together as best he could. He never thought he would be in this sort of situation, where he was living behind a mask just to get through the day on his own. He couldn't breathe again and this time, he didn't even try to regain control. He just let the attack run its course, choking out ugly sobs, his whole body flinching as the tears were wrenched from his throat. He could hear Rex whining and scratching at the door, but there was just no way he could move out of his catatonic state.

Hands pulled at his body, gripping his tattered hoodie and pulling him underneath the floor. Ice cold water poured around and over him, ripping a panicked gasp from his throat. He clawed at the freezing surface above him, trapping him with no escape. The water was salty and stung his eyes, tears forcing themselves back into his body. He was drowning, couldn't breathe. He was going to die here, alone, enclosed in a dark box of water where no one would ever think to look for him.

Anthony closed his eyes, choking desperately on the water that was slowly flooding into his lungs and stomach. Drowning wasn't fucking peaceful, Hollywood was beyond wrong. It was painful down to the last minute, clawing at him and tearing him apart from the inside.

He thought of Ze's smile, sweet and caring. His voice, confident but soft in a tone that was reserved only for Anthony. He thought of the time when Ze first told him his real name. _Steven_. He thought of Steven showing off his collection of figurines, just an organised, overgrown child. He thought of Steven asking him to sing and snuggling up to sleep with his hand curled beside his head as always.

In his final few seconds of consciousness, Anthony was able to remember every detail of Steven, everything that he loved about his best friend.

Anthony was cold. He was shivering and hugging his body, terrified of opening his eyes. Eventually though, the fear of not being able to see got worse than the fear of what he might find if he could see. He tried to open his eyes, still anticipating something horrifying lying in wait for him. Instead, he only came to realise that his eyes were already open and it was just the darkness of his room that was pressing on him. He had been asleep through his whole ordeal, panicking until he passed out. Anthony groaned and rubbed his face with his hand, standing up on legs that were shaky from being in an uncomfortable position for so long. At some point, the battery in his phone had died so he stumbled over to plug it into the charger before deciding to go to his office.

When he opened the door, he heard claws skittering against the floor only milliseconds before Rex was jumping up onto him, barking and covering him with dog kisses. Anthony grinned and hugged Rex, remembering that he hadn't let his dog go out since that morning.  Neglect wasn’t just falling to his shoulders anymore, affecting his outside life as much as himself.

Outside, it was freezing cold, with a light dusting of snow and more flurries drifting down from the sky. Anthony only had on a ratty hoodie and some sweat pants, but he stared up at the pale flakes spiralling down from the darkness above him, letting them get caught on his lashes and not minding the biting cold. The snow tangled his eyelashes together until he was just breathing in the icy air with darkness pressing down on his skull. The temperature grounded him to earth, made him hyperaware of every rush of blood through his veins and every tickle of a snowflake on his skin. It was living; in fear, in awe.

Anthony called Rex and after a couple tries, got him to come inside. Rex wandered off after that, tracking bits of slush behind him without a care in the world. Anthony vacantly wondered if he should bother cleaning up the snow, but then decided to leave it just this once. Instead, he chose to go over to his computer and sat down, clicking on Skype and putting his headphones on.

Anthony winced as he saw the flood of notifications from Ze and barely had to time to acknowledge it all before the obnoxious ringtone blared through his ears and the box showing up as receiving a call from Ze filled his screen. He accepted it and waited in silence for the shitstorm that was surely inevitable.

Nothing.

Just static on the other end and the faint sound of breathing. Hesitantly, Anthony hit the video call button, letting Ze know he really was there. A few seconds later, Ze turned on his facecam as well.

It was clear he had been worrying, pulling at his hair and biting his lip, but he just stared at Anthony with his pale green eyes, unwavering in their intensity. Anthony nervously tapped his fingers against the side of the desk; _one, two, three._

"Ze- Steven." Ze blinked, then put his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Ze mumbled something, too quiet for Anthony to discern. Then he repeated himself, "upset me." Ze looked up again, this time appearing much angrier as he stared at the screen. "Upset me? Anthony, I was worried sick that you had - done something. I don't even want to think of what. Even when Shawn told me you were alive, he still made it clear that you weren't okay. Then you practically disappeared off the face of the earth and _no-one_ could get in touch with you. Upset, no. Panic inducing? Yeah, that's what happened."

A wave of guilt washed over Anthony and he swallowed, trying to think of what to say. An apology just didn't feel like it would cut it, this was more like a betrayal. He tried to speak several times, but everything he could think to say just didn't feel appropriate.

"I - I don't think I can do this anymore," he whispered, averting his eyes and staring at his signature hat, tucked underneath the monitor. A small gasp came through his headphones and he continued with a rush, "not like I want to die or anything, I think anyway, but... I can't do YouTube anymore. Every video is weighing me down and I - it's too much energy to be happy."

"Anthony..."

"Steven," Anthony looked up, heart racing as he gauged his best friend's reaction. Ze - Steven - looked understandably shocked and taken aback by the response he was given. "I'm not okay. I don't want to fake it and have to be someone who I'm not anymore.  You get that, right?  If I spend all my energy on trying to look happy, then there’s none left for actually trying to be happy.  I just don’t really know if – if -”

"Anthony, I can make it to your house in three days, give me three days and I can be there to help you," Steven pleaded with him, switching his gaze between Anthony and his second screen, but still with the same desperate look etched onto his face. "I promise it will be okay, you just need to keep going. Please."

Anthony hesitated, torn by the desperation that Steven spoke with, and the burden of pressure that was weighing him down. He was terrified, never able to relax for fear of losing control. The disease - _depression_ \- clawing at his mind was relentless, giving him a pessimistic side that was so unlike him, it was as though his old self was just a childhood memory. He was lost, wandering in a bleak forest filled with echoes of despair, hands grabbing at him through the fog and injuring him with fears and doubt whenever he least expected it.

"Steven..."

"Anthony, I know you're scared, I've been there before. But I'm here now, see? I'm alive, and you're gonna make it out alive too. Just stay with me, okay?" Steven reached out and touched the screen lightly, as though desperate to comfort Anthony any way he could. Anthony met Steven's eyes, permanently downturned as always but filled with more sadness than he had ever seen his best friend harbour.

There was silence once again, punctuated only by the infrequent breaths that Anthony drew, too loud for him to concentrate. He was reminded of his nightmarish vision of drowning and the pressing white noise that had surrounded him as his heart beat for the last few agonising moments. Perhaps worse than the chaos of noise was the overwhelming static that took over when there was nothing left to say.

"Okay," Anthony promised, exhaling slowly. "I'll pick you up at the airport on Friday. I promise." Maybe Steven was the answer to the quiet and the hurricane of voices that never seemed to find an in between.

"Thank you," Steven breathed, letting his hand fall back to his side. He looked immensely relieved that Anthony had made his promise and the latter was starting to wonder if Steven really would do anything for him. He didn't want to test it, but he couldn't see the harm in letting his thoughts wander.

"Alright Anthony, you sang to me last week, now it's my turn to make you tired," Steven smiled gently. Anthony paused and glanced around his office before looking back at Steven with a confused expression. "Go to your bedroom, I'll call you on the phone."

Anthony nodded and ended the Skype call, turning off the monitor before going down the hallway to bed. Rex followed him happily, bounding onto the covers before Anthony could even get into his nightclothes. He rolled his eyes but pulled back the covers and curled around his dog, accepting that he would have to share the bed.

No sooner than he had gotten comfortable before his phone started ringing on the bedside table with none other than Simple Minds' "Don't You" as the ringtone, another recent and rather sad change to his routine. He answered it and immediately he could hear shuffling around, presumably as Steven got comfortable in his chair.

"What do you want me to read? Fluid mechanic fairy tales, advanced analysis of statistics, and various other physics and spacey stuff. It'll put you right to sleep, I promise. And there's always fanfictions in case you want to relive that." The end was punctuated by a short laugh that managed to pull a smile from Anthony.

"The um, the fluid mechanics thing sounds nice. Somewhat confusing, but nice..." Anthony heard Steven hum in confirmation, then a few clicks as he brought up the book on his computer.

"Once upon a time, there lived a princess in a castle. She had eyes like a dark forest on a sunny day..." and just like that, Anthony was out like a light.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be updated every other day, don't you worry. We'll reach the climax of the story that gives the demons and angels purpose. (Not so- sneaky reference cause I'm a fucking nerd)


	3. Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://open.spotify.com/user/enderdeath731/playlist/1824buKJY4paQBDyT1AYGk - Story playlist

_One, two, three._

Breathe. Close your eyes. Try to block everything out.

_One, two, three._

Breathe. People were jostling him around, treating him as just trash to toss around in their path. And maybe he was, after all, he was surely nothing of great value to anyone. He was standing alone in an airport filled with people who all had a purpose, to go somewhere, to get something done, while he was just waiting there in silence.

_One, two-_

Anthony was knocked to the ground as a small horde of young men ran past, pushing aside everyone who was in their way, including him. He winced as his knees thudded against the cold ground, and people actually stepped on his hands a couple times before he could manage to stand back up. When he regained his balance, however, he had completely lost his rhythm and all sense of calm that he had previously tried so hard to maintain. Anthony backed up, the cacophony that hundreds of conversations, flight announcements, and aeroplanes created buzzing through his head until he couldn't even focus on the steps he was taking.

"Hey there, are you alright?" Anthony was brought back to reality by a firm grip on his shoulder and a kind face staring at him with concern. It was a stranger, littered with bruises and with a distinctly foreign accent. Anthony thought it sounded Italian, but at the same time, he was still too shaken to be sure. "Sir?"

"Oh, um," Anthony bit his lip anxiously, clearly aware that any lie he told could be seen through as though it were glass. "I just don't do well in crowds, sorry." There. Not a full lie, but it's all he needed to say to a stranger.

"That's fine, no need to apologise," the stranger smiled. "I'm Codi. If you'd like, I can get you a coffee."

"Ah, no thanks, I'm waiting for someone. I just - just need to calm down," a shaky smile left Anthony's lips, but since it physically pained him to keep up the façade, he let it fall. Codi studied his actions with a worried look before digging a scrap of paper out of his pocket and pressing it into Anthony's hand.

"Here. If you ever need something, call this number. It's a friend of mine who won't ask questions, just tell her what you want, and she'll get it for you. Nothing too crazy, but if it's anything that has a prescription, she's got it. Tell her Codi sent you." Anthony was confused, but before he could ask, Codi was gone. He looked at the number, debating over what it meant, before tucking it into his pocket. He wasn't sure why he was keeping it, but something in his gut urged him not to throw it away.

In the remaining time as Anthony waited for Steven, he found a quiet corner near a ficus and partially hid behind the pot as he checked his phone every now and then for a text from Steven saying that he's landed. Finally, there was a cheerful _ding!_ noise and Anthony read the message on his phone with relief.

**Zeven: Hey just got off the plane. My back is killing me :) [3:46 P.M.]**

**ChillyWilly: okay im by the starbucks. sad i have to leave my new friend the ficus though [3:46 P.M.]**

**Zeven: Haha! [3:47 P.M.]**

**Zeven: Wait that was a joke right [3:47 P.M.]**

**ChillyWilly: nope im legit hiding out with a ficus pls help so many people :( [3:47 P.M.]**

**Zeven: Holy shit dude yeah I'll be right there try not to freak, okay?** **♥ [3:48 P.M.]**

Anthony stared at the messages, feeling a bit better that Steven understood he was going to be uncomfortable around so many people. It was just another newly developed handicap that ruined his life; what he had been fine with for so long was now the cause of immense panic, which led to depression, which led to more anxiety. It was a brutal cycle that he was caught in, and he couldn't find a way to escape.

Thankfully, Ze arrived not long after Anthony had started thinking too much and appeared from the crowd with a very large suitcase, a duffle bag, and perhaps one of the most glorious cases of bedhead that Anthony had ever seen. His curls were even more wild than usual but the entire right side of his hair was pressed flat against his head, a few stray strands of hair sticking straight up. He looked around the small clearing and smiled widely when he spotted Anthony, leaning against the wall behind the ficus.

"Nice ficus," Steven said casually once he joined Anthony in his hiding place. Anthony grinned back, not missing how Steven was trying to distract him from the odd looks they were getting as two grown men camped out behind a plant.

"Thanks. His name is Seymour," Anthony shrugged, petting one of the leaves. "He says he caught a flight from downtown and ended up here."

"Huh. Looks like you two have been getting on well - I guess you don't need me anymore." Steven started to slowly walk away after saying that, sending a teasing smirk back at Anthony to let him know he should follow. Anthony made a split second decision to do one better and chased after Steven to wrap him in a hug. His best friend turned around as though he was expecting it, letting himself be taken in by Anthony's warm embrace.

They stayed like for a few minutes, Anthony breathing steadily as he involuntarily curled his fingers through Steven's hair, for once calm enough to just let himself relax. Steven was letting his head rest just over Anthony's heart, smiling gently even though they probably looked crazy to the people walking all around them. As though beckoned by the thought, a piercing voice interrupted their moment of peace with a cry of "Faggots!"

Anthony flinched, letting go of Steven even though he didn't really want to. Just as he was about to step away and ignore the insult, Steven decided to take a stand against it.

"And proud!" he shouted back, flipping off the nameless voice. A few passerby nodded approvingly at Steven while a couple others frowned, but none could even come close to Anthony's stunned reaction. "Come on Chilly, let's get out of here," Steven paused when he noticed Anthony's dumbfounded stare. "Anthony? What's up?"

"Oh, uh, nothing," Anthony composed himself quickly and grabbed one of Steven's suitcases. "Just not used to people shouting that at me." He walked through the building with Steven, trying not to let this new possible information overwhelm him.

"Usually I'm not either, but it's not like it's untrue." Steven glanced over at Anthony with a smile. "Bisexual. Never found a need to mention it and cause an uproar so I didn't. I haven't had a boyfriend since high school anyway."

"Oh," Anthony couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching upwards so he smiled shyly at the ground. "That's awesome, bud."

"Thanks, you big dork," Steven laughed, throwing his arm casually around Anthony's shoulders. Steven was warm and happy, he smelled like freshly baked bread, and he was familiar; normal; home. Home to Anthony came from 3,000 miles away, with a crooked, coffee-stained smile and an obsession with space. Home was a wandering mind, fingers always tap-tapping, and shy smiles that hid fern green eyes behind long eyelashes. It was thin lips, a gentle voice, and soft hands that held his whenever he needed it. It wasn't a relationship, and probably never would be - despite what he wished - but it was an "advanced friendship" as he had once claimed it to be. It shared more touches and secrets than even best friends should, but it had never been with romantic intent.

They hailed a cab, Steven still managing to keep his arm slung over Anthony even as they slid into the back. Once the suitcases were all settled and the driver was left to slowly navigate the roads back to Anthony's apartment complex, Steven pulled Anthony against his chest and tucked his chin on top of the elder's head, exchanging body heat in the backseat of the cab. Steven's hand traced small designs on Anthony's thigh, and quiet strains from the radio drifted through the partition, some sort of relaxing indie band. Home was also riding in a taxi cab that smelled like a pine air freshener, on worn leather seats, tucked up against his best friend. He would have driven himself today if not for a bad attack this morning, but he personally preferred being able to 'cuddle' with Steven in the cab better.

"So? What about you?" Steven asked, no louder than the hum of the radio. At Anthony's questioning glance, he expanded his statement. "Who all do you like to date? Just girls, just guys or both? I know it's awkward which is why we've never mentioned it before but I was kind of just outed to you. So I'm curious."

"Oh, uh, well..." Anthony paused, wondering how to answer. "I say bicurious because I wasn’t really sure what I liked until a few months ago, due to the way I was raised.  Since it was enforced to not have sex before marriage, I didn't really try to look at anyone like that, even my girlfriends. But when Jess and I broke up a few months back, I kind of realised that I had no idea if I was attracted to her for anything more than her personality. I don't think that's a thing though."

"Well, it could be," Steven mused, shifting a little in his seat as he thought. "Just like you can be homosexual, you could also be biromantic. What that means is you find basic dating things like holding hands and chaste kissing with both genders appealing, but you would only find guys attractive naked." Steven grinned as Anthony suddenly blushed furiously. "What? I'm just telling it like it is. And don't tell me I hit the nail right on the head."

"I think you did exactly that," Anthony groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to rid the blush from his face. Steven laughed at him, ruffling his chocolatey hair up as Anthony whined in protest. "Stop! It's not my fault I'm really bad with love."

"Just tell me this - are you still a virgin?" Anthony only responded by way of an even more furious blush and hiding his face in his hands. "Oh my god, you are!" Again, a middle finger was the best answer that Steven received.

"Shut the fuck up," Anthony grumbled, tucking his face in Steven's shirt to hide his blush. "And I bet you've jumped in bed with a hundred people."

"Not even close, more like just a handful. A handful meaning four. And one of them was a dude I met in San Fran that was taking the same classes as I was and he was a pleasant guy to talk to, but we weren't compatible to date. He had a nice dick though."

And whatever Steven claimed, Anthony definitely had not choked on his own saliva when he said that.

XxX

Anthony's apartment was one of those small, shared buildings with two stories and a tiny yard. It was made of old bricks and kudzu wound through the rusty metal trellis next to the door, only a few morning glory leaves managing to escape the choking vines. Anthony unlocked the door, painted an off black with chips in the wood, and let it swing open to reveal a beige painted hallway, a few doorways to either side leading into the living room and kitchen.

"Mi casa es tu casa," Anthony said with a rather broken translation. "I've got an air mattress, a couch, or a queen sized bed, whatever you're comfortable with."

"Do you come with the bed?" Steven asked casually, wandering into the small kitchen. He frowned at the lack of food anywhere - asides from copious amounts of popcorn, but even that was dwindling - and picked up a mouldy avocado. "Geez, Anth, what have you been eating? Your hopes and dreams?"

Mentally Anthony cursed himself for not shopping before Steven got here. "I forget to eat most days, I don't think I've been to the store in two weeks. I'm fine though, really."

Steven furrowed his brows in disbelief and walked over to Anthony, placing his hands on the taller's sides. Anthony knew that his best friend was feeling the outlines of his ribs and his sunken stomach, the sharp angle of his sides that hadn't been noticeable through his baggy shirt before. "Is this because of your... mental situation?"

"No," Anthony mumbled back, switching his eyes from Steven's worried face to the linoleum floor. Just as quickly as comfort and happiness had crept into his heart in the airport and taxi cab, it was stolen away by a knife coated in cold, oily poison that stabbed through his veins. A pair of weights were strapped to his lungs, restricting his breathing and weighing him down with something that couldn't be put into words, perhaps fear, unease, discomfort, or all three. "It's just that sometimes I can let days go by where I do nothing but lie on the couch and sleep." That wasn't true. Those days he would contemplate the best way to end his life before he heard the familiar ringtone of his phone and Steven's name would show up on his screen, wondering why Anthony hadn't appeared all day. Then they would talk, Anthony would be happy for a little while, then Steven would have to eat or do homework or fall asleep and the chaotic darkness would return, not going away even when he closed his eyes. It amplified on joy, whispering thoughts that he didn't deserve to be treated so well, he was taking advantage of Steven's kindness, was wasting his best friend's time. No, those days where he was too broken to function were the days where he always fell asleep with tears drying on his cheeks and eyelashes.

Steven eyed him with a critical expression but left it alone after that, rubbing Anthony's back briefly before he got to work, tossing out the avocado and going through the fridge, grimacing at the sight and smell of some foods and shrugging at others, setting the rotten ones in a pile to be tossed out. Anthony retreated to his bedroom, taking Steven's duffle bag along with him for some reason. He climbed the stairs sluggishly, closed the door when he got to his room and found Rex sprawled over his bed, somehow managing to cover all the surface area of the mattress despite being so lanky. Anthony managed a small grin for his dog, but it quickly fell from his face to be replaced by the grey emotion of before. Without thinking, he unzipped the red carry-on and found a worn toy plush of a wolf, velveteen fur faded and dirty in some places and the seams tearing on its right paw. Anthony had never seen it before but it was clearly well-loved and dear to Steven if he had brought it all the way out here. Anthony carefully lifted the stuffed animal and closed the bag again, crashing and feeling too exhausted to do much more than strip to his boxers and crawl into bed around Rex, holding the wolf close to his chest. It was only mid-afternoon but his sleep schedule had been ruined by his constant energy burn-outs. His eyes drifted shut and he lazily swam in and out of sleep, waking when Steven leant over his bed and ran his fingers lightly through Anthony's hair, saying he was going to the store.

_One, two, three._

Breathe and sleep.

Sometimes sleeping was better than facing the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say, really. Except for that Codi and his aforementioned friend are two of my original characters from a different story and I absolutely love them to pieces.


	4. Hum Hallelujah

_One, two, three._

Breathe.

_One, two, three._

Breathe. Clench hands around the crumpled piece of paper. He found it while doing laundry, having forgotten about it until now.

_One, two, three._

Fuck it. He grabbed his cell phone, shakily pressing the numbers in and listening to the dial sound, heart beating up in his throat. He didn't know who he was calling but he was having an attack, Steven was out walking Rex, and he just needed to do something.

"This is Lindsey, who are you?"

"U-uh, my name is Anthony. Some guy named Codi gave me this number?" Anthony's voice rose nervously at the end, pitching it up to almost sound like a question. He shouldn't have called. He should have just collapsed on the floor and let the fit pass over him like normal. This was bad.

"Bah, that _hijo de puta_ needs to stop giving out my number. I'm a pharmacist, not a drug lottery! Punch these numbers, win a bottle of Xanax! Mr. _Hijo de perra_ can shove a stick up his ass," the woman, Lindsey, cursed with a thick Mexican accent, sounding very hot headed. "Ah, but it's all in the name of good business. What do you need?"

 _She must give out drugs illegally,_ Anthony realised suddenly. He remembered reading articles about meds to treat depression back at the beginning of his thoughts, when he still thought that there were more ways out, one name jumping to the forefront of his mind. "Um, do you have Diazepam?"

"Have it? _Señor Anthony_ , I work at a drugstore. I have everything here," she sassed, slight clinking coming through on her end of the line. "Do you want Valium or do you call to check our stock? Oh _por el amor de carajo_ , I am surrounded by idiot men!" Lindsey heaved a great sigh and Anthony imagined her scrubbing her face in exasperation. "So? Are you still there Señor Anthony? Do you want your Valium or do you call to waste my time?"

"I'll pick it up," Anthony found himself saying. "Which store is it?"

"Luitpold on Upton Road. We close in forty-five _minutos_. Bring cash. I'll have the bottle for you, and when you get here, say your name is 'Delfino' so I know who you are. Anthony Delfino, that's your name, got it?" Anthony nodded before he squeezed his eyes shut over his stupidity. It was a phone.

"Yeah. I'll be there in twenty minutes." The phone clicked when Lindsey hung up without another word, leaving Anthony feeling sick like he had just been forced into something he didn't want. The feeling continued to eat away at his throat as he scribbled a note to Steven, saying he'd gone out to walk in the nearby park for a little bit, stayed with him as he drove to the pharmacy, and crept up to his mouth like acid when he opened the door of the small drugstore.

A short, roundish Latino woman, whom Anthony guessed was Lindsey, was working at the counter, muttering under her breath as she counted out a handful of round, white pills. She looked up and saw Anthony, wrinkling her nose at the sight of him. "Oh _Dios mio!_ You look awful! Have you not slept or are you like my Codi, always getting into fights? These Codeine pills are for him you know, can't stop going in to fight all these men every night for the money." She poured the white pills into a Ziploc bag and shook it at Anthony, pursing her lips as she stressed her point. "Are you supposed to be Anthony Delfino? Speak _niño_ , I cannot read your thoughts!"

"Yeah. That's me, Delfino." Anthony stole a quick glance around to find the store empty of people, although there wasn't much to look through. There were a few rows of non-prescription medicines with labels on what they treated, a display of essential oils, and the granite counter with an irritable Mexican and pills enough to kill a nation behind her. It was a scary thought, honestly.

"Alright. Fifty dollars and here's your Valium," Lindsey grabbed a prescription bottle filled with cotton blue pills, so innocent and helpful looking, and placed it on the counter between them. Anthony dug out the money from his wallet, just barely having enough in cash, and he exchanged the paper for the pills. The rattle of medicine took the place of a handshake, secured in his pocket as he pushed through the doors, Lindsey's dark eyes fixated on his back. When he glanced back, the Latina had let her face fall from its fixated position of annoyance, instead marred with regret as she watched Anthony leave. Her expression didn't change when she caught Anthony's gaze on her, she just sent a sad smile his way. The pressure on his chest and the Valium in his pocket felt heavier than ever, weighing down his footsteps as he got into his car. A wave of anxiety crashed into him and suddenly, he couldn't breathe; he was shaking violently and tears were threatening to spill over. There was no cause, he was just so scared and uncomfortable with his situation that he got overwhelmed and _couldn’t think – he couldn’t – he -_

_One, two, three._

Through his tremors and blurry vision, he unscrewed the bottle of pills, fighting against the child-proof lock on the cap.

_One, two, three._

Ignoring the recommended dosage, he swallowed four pills dry, shuddering as they got stuck in his throat halfway down before continuing after he coughed a couple times.

_One, two, three._

It took fifteen minutes to kick in before his heart and mind settled. His stomach still churned but he figured it was because of the meds, not the anxiety. He was numb, fingers tingling as he gripped the wheel and pulled out of the pharmacy parking lot. He didn't know when Lindsey had left but the drugstore's windows were dark and he was the last car in the lot. Night had cloaked Long Island, the sky blurred out with murky yellow light, barely able to even see the waning moon. He felt like the sky, unclear and showing its ugliness to the entire city _. A waste of space,_ he thought as he drove down the highway, a shell for the words to echo dully around in his head. _Unclean,_ as he carefully switched lanes, on autopilot. _Unloved and toxic,_ when he parked in front of his building and nearly crashed into the bushes out front. He didn't care. He didn't care if his car was hit by a truck and the door crushed him, as long as it would just mean that he didn't have to care. He was addicted to the feeling of apathy already.

"Anthony!" Steven exclaimed, rushing at the aforementioned to envelop him in a hug as soon as he had stepped through the door. "Where the fuck have you been? You left hours ago! I tried calling you but you left your phone here, you asshole, don't fucking disappear when I'm staying over because I'm afraid that you're gonna kill yourself!" Belatedly, as Anthony was rubbing his best friend's back to try to calm him, he realised that Steven had been crying and was now snivelling miserably into his shoulder. He was angry because he was worried and where Anthony would have previously felt guilty, and then hated himself more, now he only felt distant, like he was watching what was happening through somebody else's eyes. He was emotionless, a husk.

"D-don't do that anymore! Anth, I can't fucking lo-ose you!" Steven hiccuped, trying to wipe his face free of snot and tears to no avail. Instead, he just put his head back against Anthony's chest, leaning against its rise and fall as he slowly evened out his breathing. His hands were clenched in Anthony's baggy hoodie, pulling on the grey fabric to support himself, as though he was scared that they would both fall should he let go.

"I'm sorry," Anthony murmured, his head sinking down to rest on Steven's mess of curly hair. "I couldn't stop thinking."

"About what?" he asked, calmer now but still worried. He parted with Anthony and dragged him over to sit down on the couch where they leant back into each other as naturally as ever, hips touching, hands intertwined, and both using the other for support. Rex, who had apparently decided that it was his duty to join in, did so with great eagerness. After a few barks and misplaced paws, he settled down and stretched across Steven's lap with his head on Anthony's stomach.

"You," Anthony said.  The numbness had started wearing off as they settled, and all he could think about now was what Steven had said. _'I can't lose you.'_  The way they always acted with each other. They were close and with his recent depression, Anthony hadn't given much thought to the extra touches, the constant hovering, the way Steven's hands always seemed to run through his hair when he was anxious or shaking due to an episode. "I was thinking about you." His smile, his shy laugh, his eyes, so full of starlight and emotion it made Anthony feel whole again whenever he looked at his best friend. It made him want to explode, starting at a point in the centre of his chest, vaporising the chains around his lungs until they expanded to the point of bursting, then the shockwave blasting around the smile engraved on his face.

"And what were you thinking about me?" _Too many things to put into words, feelings that don't have words that can be used to describe them. The way you shine, the way you're always beautiful, the way you speak and tease me like we've been friends our whole life. The way you made me realise I was maybe, just a little - well, full-on gay for you. Your hands and smile and unruly curls. The way you blush when we 'flirt'. The way I want to hold your hand forever because our fingers fit together like puzzle pieces. The way I can't be sad when I'm talking to you. The way I want to say..._

"How much I love you," Anthony whispered, watching Steven's face, his eyes, his lips, to see his reaction. His face relaxed, eyes widened, lips parted to show a confused, crooked smile. "I love you." He stated it carefully, pronouncing each word with perfect enunciation, no way to mistake the meaning that was pinned behind each word, the syllables a picture that hid a world of undiscovered vibrancy and passion behind a simple canvas to paint the calligraphy of each letter upon. Anthony was sure, his very being lit up with a nuclear energy and his hand clasped tightly around Steven's, unable to let go even if he wanted to do so.

To an onlooker it would simply look as though they were lost in each other's eyes, not seeing the energy jumping between their bodies like lightning through storm clouds. They were electric, lips parting with silent words and fire beneath their skin, the ground beneath them falling away as they both processed what had been said. It was undeniably clear. No way to twist it or change it for evil or a clouded mind. No, they were the elements with three words hanging between them, made of feathers and hope, rain and the sun. They held weight, but the kind that kept you anchored instead of dragging you down. They kept you on the plane of reality and forced you to stay. Three words were the difference between exploding or drowning.

"Anth," Steven was struggling to speak. "Anthony, god, I love you too."

There were arms wrapped around him, frightening Rex away, crushing Anthony’s ribs and pulling him close until their lips could meet. The kiss was soft at first but they were locked together, gentle until Anthony pushed against it, wanting more, wanting more of the fire to flow through his veins and ignite his blood. He felt like crying but there were no tears, just energy. He felt like he was living again, felt hope and happiness and everything good in the world strengthen the beating of his heart. Slowly, Steven's lips moved against his, taking short breaths to avoid breaking apart. The icy grip around his lungs loosened, the pressure falling away as his head grew lighter and his body grew warmer. He could have flown away had he tried.

Teeth on his lower lip distracted him from thoughts of the sky. They bit and tugged, pulling Anthony to bite back. He tasted blood and didn't know whose it was because he couldn't think about anything else but the contact; his pain sensors overridden with something he couldn't even begin to describe.

"Holy shit," Anthony whispered, drawing a long, shuddering breath. He rested his forehead against Steven's and laughed, quietly, breathy. He was shaking but had never felt so complete. Cold, but at the same time, submerged in flames. "I don't know why it took us so long to do that."

Steven laughed too, kissing Anthony's cheek. "I think that this was just the push that we needed. I tried to tell you at the last convention, but I couldn't get the stomach to do it."

"Well, it's a good thing that now you have that and my heart," Anthony teased, chest warming as Steven's cheeks and ears flushed a pale, rosy pink. His joy was infectious, his smile creeping onto Anthony's face to be mirrored in what was just a fragment of his previous grin, but it was a start to something better because after so long, his smile was _genuine_.

Maybe it would all turn out okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so fucking sorry, I meant to post this on Thursday but it's been a busy week, since my grandpa's in the hospital and we need to take care of his house, I've been doing some work for my parents at their job, and I had two depressive episodes that were dishearteningly close together. Please forgive me ;-;


	5. Anathema

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance, I don't usually write smut

_One, two, three._

It was not okay.

_One, two three._

It was so far from okay.

_One, two, three-four-fivesixsevenohgodicantthink_

He was dying. Anthony was fucking dying.

It started out fine, he was getting better. He was sitting on his couch with Steven, close to him as always, watching an 80s movie. It was fine, normal now, a week after he said: "I love you." Nothing had changed between them except the title of boyfriends; they had practically been dating for years already without noticing. Steven had stayed with him for a month, using Anthony’s computer to make videos. They started playing games together again, Steven explaining on his behalf that Anthony had been going through a 'rough patch' to fans and needed to be treated just like before as directions to his friends. They took turns recording, played two-player Town of Salem and explored some horror games together, although nothing too bloody per Anthony's request. Anthony took Steven to a restaurant a few days prior, a little Italian place that served imported wine and authentic dishes. It was worth the teasing about Anthony going back to his roots to see Steven's smile when he tasted the ciabatta loaf and a "bread salad", something that seemed to be personally made for him. Anthony wasn't having attacks, and the pills had gone untouched after the first, desperate use.

They were curled up together, watching a movie called _Highlander_ that they had found in the five dollar bin at the grocery store. It was interesting, but it required more focus than they were able to give the movie while kissing. It was Steven who pushed the unspoken boundary first, letting his hand edge down Anthony's side, past his stomach which was slowly filling back out to a healthy state again. Fingers played at the hem of his jeans and Anthony whined, low and needy, pressing up into the touch.

"Oh, you like that?" Steven's voice was so different, dark and with an edge to it. His eyes gleamed with mischief as his hand traced the outline of Anthony's hips, skirting just inside the edge of his jeans but not enough to pull the fabric down. Anthony was getting flustered, the sensations new and sending thrills down his spine. He was embarrassed by how he was acting, so desperate from just a feather-light touch, but he couldn't help but keen when Steven's other hand cupped the growing bulge in the front of his pants. "Noisy, that's cute."

"F-fuck off," Anthony gasped, whining again when Steven kept teasing him with practised and nimble fingers. They danced along the outline of his dick, the little touches turning him on far more than it should have.

"Hmm, no, I'd rather fuck you," Steven smirked; the cheeky little bastard. Anthony would have kissed him just to wipe the smug look off his face if Steven hadn't just slipped his hand down his pants and against his boxers, so close to the warm friction that Anthony wanted. He huffed and shoved up into Steven's hand, trying to get the point across that he needed more.

Then as suddenly as it had started, Steven leant back, stealing away his heat. Anthony made a desperate noise and tried to grab at Steven's wrists to pull him closer again.

"Bed. It's easier to clean." Steven winked and helped Anthony up to make their way to his bedroom, where they pulled the door shut to keep Rex out and collapsed onto the sheets, Anthony on his back and Steven leaning over him with a devious, half-lidded gaze. He stretched up to kiss Anthony and keep him occupied while he slid his hand in between Anthony's legs and started rubbing the fabric of his jeans, teasing him. The taller was getting flustered quickly, sure that his face was an unattractive bright pink. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Shut the fuck up," Anthony groaned, trying to slip out of his hoodie without parting from Steven too much. His boyfriend sat back and laughed, helping him struggle out of his clothes to be left only in his boxers. Steven had taken off his shirt on the way up the stairs and had simply to wriggle out of his pants, which were apparently snug enough around his hips that his underwear came with them. Unsure of what to say in this situation, Anthony voiced the first thing on his mind. "Nice dick."

Steven laughed loudly, letting his head fall slightly against his chest. "Thanks, man. I don't think it's too bad either." After recomposing himself, Steven shuffled backwards a little bit so that his feet were hanging off the bed but when he leant down, his head was right at Anthony's crotch, his breaths sending warm air over his hardened cock. "Now I'm gonna make this beat anything else you've had."

"I haven't had anything else," Anthony complained.

"Exactly," Steven smirked and then with one easy movement, pulled Anthony's boxers down enough to wrap his mouth around his cock. A wave of pleasure sent shivers up Anthony's spine and he moaned, voice cracking as Steven wasted no time bobbing his head up and down. His tongue curled around the shaft easily, not minding the size in the slightest, just delivering more thrills to Anthony, who produced a multitude of sounds that seemed to only encourage Steven more.

"O-oh..." Anthony groaned after what could have been five minutes or five hours or Steven fucking teasing him and sucking his dick. "Y-you gotta stop. It's so go-ood, but I - I wanna - need to-"

"Say it," Steven looked up, licking his lips. "I know you want it, say it."

"Fuck me," Anthony whimpered, quietly at first. "Fuck me, please Steven."

"Well since you asked so nicely," the corner of Steven's lips twisted and just like that, he was standing up. "You're lucky," he bent over, giving Anthony a wonderful and well-appreciated view of his ass as he rifled through a plastic shopping bag that had been abandoned on the floor last week, "that I thought ahead to buy some supplies."

"All I'm hearing when you say that is 'I planned to fuck you,'" Anthony snarked. He caught the small bottle of lube that was tossed his way, scoffing as he read it. "Cherry lube? Seriously?"

"It smells nice, don't fucking judge me."

"You're sticking your dick up my ass anyway, what's the point?"

"Just hold it while I put a condom on. I don't wanna be cleaning cum off of the sheets tomorrow," Steven sighed, rolling on the condom. He took the lube from Anthony and rubbed it over his fingers, setting it to the side to use a bit later. "This is gonna feel weird but you gotta relax or it'll be weird _and_ painful, even with the lube."

"You don't have to explain every step, I've watched po-rn before!" Anthony's voice rose to a squeak as Steven stuck his index finger up his ass and, as much as he was loathe to admit it, it was every bit as weird as he had warned. "Cold!"

"Luckily you're hot enough to warm it right up," Steven smirked and while Anthony was dying over a combination of laughing and cringing, he was able to work another finger in, moving them around and stretching Anthony’s hole. It was getting better, easier to handle and warmer. Steven put another finger in, still not going too deep and Anthony was getting more flustered by the second. He was fully hard, dick leaking precum as he thrust towards the friction as much as he could, unashamed now that he was begging. "Okay, this will hurt more than fingers. Keep relaxing though, you're doing fine."

Anthony couldn't respond in full words anymore, completely brought down by how submissive he was. He had never imagined Steven to be the one to be fucking him - of course, he had fantasies, he had to get rid of boners somehow - but here they were and the head of Steven's dick was brushing teasingly against Anthony's asshole. Maybe this was a fantasy. And then Steven rolled his hips, dick sinking inside of Anthony and he moaned, hoarse and needy and most importantly - _loud_.

"You like that?" Steven's face was flushed now too, but his eyes still hadn't lost their dark gleam. "Wh-what is it that you say sometimes? Are you a dirty girl, Anthony?"

"Y-yes," Anthony whined, wishing Steven would move but knowing that it was best to wait until his ass adjusted to the stretch first. "Yes, please. Pl- _ease!"_

Steven looked up with a sudden innocence displayed on his features, as though he hadn't just shoved his cock a few inches farther into Anthony's ass. "Yes?" he grinned, as though he had no idea what he was doing. "Am I not treating my dirty girl right?" Every other word, spoken like silk, was accentuated by another roll of Steven's hips until Anthony was shaking from the pleasure. He was a wreck, devolving into a sweaty, hot mess the longer it went on. "I'll be better, I promise."

An indescribable noise was ripped from Anthony as Steven's dick hit a bundle of nerves in just the right place, sending shivers up his spine. His fingers were curled in the sheets but one hand moved to Steven's hair, entangling his sweaty curls and pulling him down so they could kiss again, desperate for as much contact as possible. He was getting tantalisingly close to an orgasm and with every sharp twitch of Steven's hips, each hitting his prostrate like a drummer pounding on a bass drum, he was moaning until he reached his climax with a short gasp.  He squeezed his eyes shut then as he experienced the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life, Steven coming just seconds after him.

Anthony could have almost missed it, had he not been hypersensitive towards everything. But with his eyes closed and one sense dimmed there was no mistaking Steven's groan as he came, one word, one name. "Sh-Shawn..."

Anthony froze, his mind stuttering to a halt and then racing, completely chasing away the fog of sex. Steven hadn't realised, _or maybe didn't care_ , Anthony's darker thoughts suggested after being nearly silent for a week. Anthony pulled himself away, letting Steven's dick fall out of his ass, leaving him feeling empty in more ways than one.

"Shawn?" Anthony tentatively asked, scared of the answer, hoping he had somehow misheard. But no, Steven paused and a look of horror and _'oh god I fucked up'_ crossed his face. "Who is that?"

Steven sat up, pulling himself away from Anthony and letting fear curl up in his place. "It's Shawn. Ritz." Everything was crashing, waves with no ocean. Anthony stood up next to his bed where Steven still sat, feeling dirty and upset. "When - when we were in San Fran together, he and I dated on and off." _On and off. Maybe Anthony was just a fling in between._ "We kept it quiet so there wouldn't be any drama with YouTube and fans. And we didn't tell any friends online so that there wouldn't be any slips." Anthony was drowning, trapped under the ice. "Anth, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say it, please believe me."

"I can't trust you," he was saying, mouth moving without his bidding. He felt awful, sick to his stomach. "Were you using me as a way to get off? An in-between of fucking Shawn? But I can't imagine him bottoming so at one point he must have had his cock in your ass too, isn't that fucking right?" He was shouting and Steven flinched with every step Anthony took away from him. "Get the hell out of my house - oh wait, you've made yourself at home here in your lies. Guess I'll fuck off then," Anthony spat, and left the bedroom, angry and head swirling with too many emotions. The wood splintered under the force of him slamming the door and he hurried down the steps, not forgetting to note the absence of Steven's footsteps behind him. He grabbed a stray pair of boxers and sweatpants from the living room, shoving Rex away when he tried to happily jump on him and shrugging on his hoodie at the door. He started walking, not noticing the tears starting to bead up at the corners of his eyes.

Anthony hailed a cab as soon as he could, checking the pocket of his hoodie and thankfully finding his wallet and phone buried in the fabric. He told the driver to drive as far as sixteen dollars and fifty-three cents would take him. He ended up near a dirty part of town, in front of a playground that looked like it had been abandoned for twenty years. There was a swing set with three swings, but the left one was busted and the chains were twisted around the top bar. Two people sat on the surviving rusty swings, the cherry of a lit cigarette shining through the darkness. Anthony walked closer, past the lopsided merry-go-round and the slide with a few ladder steps missing and jagged metal edges poking out. He intentionally scraped his arm against one of the pointed edges as he walked past, numb to the pain but finding a sick pleasure in the feeling of blood oozing down his skin.

"Señor Anthony," a familiar Mexican voice called. Lindsey was sitting on the middle swing, Codi beside her, twirling his cigarette in between bloody and dirty fingers. "You don't look good, _amigo_."

Anthony smiled grimly, pausing in front of them. "I feel like shit. I thought I was getting better but the guy I started dating was – he’s a dick. He's been my best friend for years."

Codi and Lindsey were both silent, even as Codi stubbed out the last of his cigarette on his inner wrist, leaving a dark burn against the vein. "We're all three here fucked up. _Los Tres Amigos,_ ever heard of that movie?" At Anthony's nod, Lindsey continued, brushing dark hair out of her face. "We're _Los Tres Locos._ You've been fucked in the ass by life," she noticed Anthony's wince and corrected herself, "and your boyfriend. Codi has an addiction to pain so as to stave off his _pensamientos de muerte_ ," Codi nodded in agreement, baring his scarred and bruised arms as a testament. "And I... I was sold as a slave in an underground business until Codi rescued me."

"I couldn't let those ugly old white men keep a damsel like you all to themselves," Codi shrugged as though he didn't really care but Anthony didn't miss the way he rested his hand over Lindsey's. "What would I do without someone so pretty yelling at me all but one hour of the day?"

"I will yell until you find a girlfriend," Lindsey grumbled, back to her old, irritated self. "Which means you'll hear my yelling for a long time yet, hijo de puta." She extended a hand to Anthony out of nowhere and more out of surprise, he took it. "You are broken, _Señor_. I see no _fuego en tus ojos_. You have the _fuego de la vida_ when you live for someone and that is the only reason for you to be here. Whether you live for your love or for yourself, then it is worth staying alive. Otherwise, you suffer alone and in _silencio_."

"You're saying I should die."

"We're saying you should do what _you_ want next," Codi answered, not unkindly, but straightforward. "Maybe your boyfriend really is an asshole or he made a mistake that he's regretting greatly now. The only way to know is by asking him straight out. You don't get what you want by throwing fits, the world has no time for that. You must make what you want to happen by doing it yourself."

"I - thank you," Anthony breathed, his thoughts finally stilling in their whirlwind. "That helped, really. Will I see you around?"  He knew they wouldn’t.

Lindsey stood up and shook her head with a smile, as he expected. "You're a nice man, Señor Anthony. It would be best if we tried to avoid each other. We run in different places, areas that should not mix."

"We wish you well," Codi added, clapping Anthony's shoulder gently, dirty lavender hair falling on his face. "I hope you find where you need to go. And for all it's worth, I hope it's not on the front page of the obituaries."

"Thanks, both of you," Anthony gave a small smile and turned his back to the pair, feeling slightly more in control after the playground meeting. He walked onto the sidewalk, wondering how long it would take to get home before he noticed his phone buzzing in his pocket. He opened it and found over a dozen missed calls from Steven and was currently receiving one from Shawn. He hesitated only a little over the accept button before clicking it and holding the phone to his ear.

"We've got to stop talking like this," Shawn joked without any humour present in his voice. "Anthony, I'm so sorry we didn't tell you, it's not that we didn't trust you, it was just that -"

"I get it," Anthony interrupted, continuing to walk as he talked. "I understand now, I'm not mad."

"Then fucking call Steven back!" Shawn shouted. "I still care about him, we don't have to be dating to do that and I want to see him happy, especially with you. It's always been 'Anthony this' or 'Anthony told me a funny joke' and then suddenly 'I'm going to fly all the way across the country because Anthony needs someone' and I'm all for him being that someone. I just want to make sure he isn't getting his heart broken because you won't listen to him, no matter the reason."

"Okay." Anthony's voice broke. He tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. "I'll call him now, okay?"

"Good," Shawn said curtly, then softer, "are you okay?"

Anthony hung up, dialling Steven's number. He was trembling and almost hit the wrong buttons. His... boyfriend? Best friend? The person he cares about? answered almost immediately. The sidewalk dropped away from under Anthony, giving into asphalt.

"Anth, I'm so sorry, I -"

_One, two, three._

"Steven." Anthony was gasping out, heart pounding as he watched headlights shine and disappear, seconds away from appearing over the crest of the hill just a few feet in front of him. "I love you. I shouldn't have left, I shouldn't have dragged you out here for this ending."

 _One, two, three_.

"Anthony, what are you talking about?" Steven sounded scared and Anthony could only imagine his beautiful green eyes, wide as he paced the floor anxiously.

_One, two, three._

Anthony could hear the rumble of a loud truck splitting the quiet New York air.

"I'm sorry. This isn't your fault. I love you, _I love_ -"

_One._

There were blinding lights and a roar too loud to hear his own last words, or the scream from his phone before it was flung away and shattered on the ground. There was a flash of breaking bones and his chest caving in and being crushed before his head hit the pavement and he let his body relax, shattered limbs going limp as the truck tore away without a pause.

XxX

Codi stared at the paper with a frown on his face, drinking coffee that was mostly water. Lindsey glanced over at him, eyebrows furrowed. _"¿Que?"_ she asked curiously.

"Nothing," Codi answered sadly, setting the paper down, **Obituaries** in bold at the top. "Señor Anthony found where he needed to go, is all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize after the fact, I usually kill people
> 
> There's just a bunch of apologies, I'm turning Canadian.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this in January, and that should give you a time frame of how much I procrastinated. It was also near the beginning of me trying to get back into writing, so it's probably a bit all over the place. Please forgive me!


End file.
